


Twenty Years

by SilverySparks



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 10:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10762023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverySparks/pseuds/SilverySparks
Summary: Sixty years. Forty at least. Twenty, with a bit of bad luck. Twenty. He had counted on it, counted the years every time the fear overtook him, every time he looked at Alec and saw nothing but a mortal. Twenty at least. He’d had one.





	Twenty Years

One moment he was fighting, and fighting well. He was standing in a strategic spot overlooking the battlefield and hurled fire and lightning at his enemies like the Archangel Michael leading Heaven’s hosts against the forces of Hell.

The next moment he was on the ground, clinging to Alec, pain sprouting in his chest.

He gasped for air, half sitting, half lying, his hands entangled in his lover’s blood-covered gear, shouting the boy’s name with tears running down his cheeks and his chest hurting, hurting, hurting.

“Magnus,” Alec croaked and put clammy hands to the warlock’s face, “Magnus,” and Magnus wanted to reply but his throat was obstructed by something large and lumpy  and he couldn’t get the words out, he could only wrap his arms even tighter around the boy’s body and bury his face in Alec’s shirt. And Alec was crying and Magnus was hurting and as Alec’s fingers slid off his face he felt a cold, dark numbness seep out of his heart and encompass his entire body until blackness clouded his vision and he slid gratefully into the void.

When he opened his eyes again, darkness had fallen. He was lying facedown in the mud, surrounded by the bodies of dead Shadowhunters. He would have counted himself one of them if not for the searing pain in his heart.

Pain. Why was he hurting?

He rolled over onto his back and discovered that he had been lying _on_ something. No, not something. Someone. He shifted, wiping blood and mud out of his eyes to get a better look.

Someone was tall and black-haired and wore the bloody remnants of Shadowhunter gear. Someone’s eyes were closed, but Magnus didn’t need to see them to know their colour. Gentian blue. Deep-sea blue. Alec blue.

Magnus stared at his lover’s face, even paler than usual underneath the layer of mud, and suddenly the pain made an awful lot of sense.

_Not true._

He remembered the battle, his last impressions before falling unconscious. Alec’s tears, Alec’s hands, blood on Alec’s gear.

_Not true._

Alec’s voice, Alec’s scream, a hole in Magnus’s heart.

_Not true._

_Not yet._

Sixty years. Forty at least. Twenty, with a bit of bad luck. Twenty. He had counted on it, counted the years every time the fear overtook him, every time he looked at Alec and saw nothing but a mortal. Twenty at least. He’d had one.

Magnus looked up at the sky and screamed. He screamed at the angels, who were supposed to look after the Nephilim.

_Twenty years!_

He screamed at the demons, at his father who could have commanded his minions to leave Alec alone.

_Twenty years!_

He screamed at the humans, at all of mankind who were so frustratingly fragile.

_Twenty years!_

He screamed at everything and everyone, even at himself, him who had expected too much.

_Twenty years._

Shadowhunters died young.

He closed his eyes and rested his head on Alec’s lifeless chest. The scent of sandalwood lingered on the boy’s clothes. “Wake up,” Magnus whispered tiredly. “Please. Just open your eyes.” His voice was as pain-filled as Magnus felt, and so familiar that he didn’t notice it right away.

Alec. He sounded like Alec.

“Don’t you die on me, Magnus,” he whispered with Alec’s voice. “I’ve already lost Max, don’t make me lose you too. If you die, I don’t… Just don’t die. Please.” He sounded teary now.

Magnus stirred in the mud, only the mud didn’t feel much like mud anymore. It felt like sheets. His head was still lying on someone’s chest, and strong arms were wrapped around him. His own chest was still hurting.

“Magnus, wake up,” Alec’s voice pleaded. This time Magnus wasn’t moving his lips. The voice continued anyway. “For me, Magnus. Wake up for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you.”

_I love you._ Something about that sentence tugged at Magnus, filling his body with warmth, lifting the fog that was clouding his mind. _I love you._

“Alec…” he mumbled dazedly, in his own voice this time.

At once, the arms around him stiffened. Then the body under him moved, and a hand cupped his cheek carefully.

“Magnus? Magnus, are you awake?”

“Alec,” Magnus said, still sluggishly but willing himself to come out of his stupor. “Alex…ander.” With an enormous effort he opened his eyes and _looked,_ and a pair of blue eyes looked back.

Gentian blue. Deep-sea blue. Alec blue.

“I love you,” Magnus said, refusing to blink even though his eyes were watering. He had thought he would never look into those eyes again. Now he didn’t want to stop doing so, ever. Or at least for another twenty years.

Alec smiled at his words, and bent down to give Magnus a soft kiss. Magnus winced as the Shadowhunter’s body moved under him, reminding him of the pain that was still burning in his chest. “Ouch,” he murmured against Alec’s lips.

Alec pulled back immediately. “Oh God, I’m so sorry!” he said hurriedly, sliding a hand under Magnus’s shirt and feeling at a bandage Magnus hadn’t noticed before.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Some demon got at you,” Alec said, his expression suddenly grave. “It was my fault. I was watching you, but then Izzy got in trouble and I ran over to help her and then–“

“Shh,” Magnus said, leaning his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You don’t have to protect me, Alec. I can look after myself.”

“Evidently you can’t,” Alec said, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He pulled his hand back out from under Magnus’s shirt, though not without sliding it gently over the hard muscles of the warlock’s stomach. “You’re lucky,” the boy said, “I don’t think the wound tore open. But it’s going to hurt every time I move. Maybe you should just lie by yourse–“

“No!” Magnus protested, wrapping his arms around his lover’s lean body. “I don’t care if it hurts. I’m not letting you out of my sight for the next twenty years.”

“Twenty years?” Alec asked.

Magnus nodded, cuddling up against the Shadowhunter’s warm chest and closing his eyes. “Or sixty.”


End file.
